She Will Be Loved
by Read.write.review17
Summary: Trent and Courtney have been best friends since they were 3. He promised he would always be there for her. Now, 15 years later, his promise is put to the ultimate test. This is a song fanfic, based on the song "She Will Be Loved" by Maroon 5. Read&Review.
1. Chapter 1

_Beauty queen of only eighteen__  
__She had some trouble with herself__  
__He was always there to help her__  
__She always belonged to someone else_

My first memory of Courtney was from when we were both three. Already, she was pretty. In the photos my mother took, she looks like one of those kids who model children's cloths for Macy's. I am standing right behind her, but I look like the average all-American boy. It had been a warm summer day, and we were standing outside her old house. We were comparing our birthday presents from each of our parties. "A sparkly gold super-ball" she crowed, shoving the desirable object into my face (she had a will of her own, even back then). I answered, "Yeah but beat this!" and held up my brand-spankin' new green squeaky rubber dinosaur. Her face fell for a minute, then became serious. She leaned in close, her wide onyx eyes close to my green ones. "I have to show you something." She glanced around the street, and trotted into her large cream cape house. Well, house wasn't exactly the right word for this thing. It was a full out mansion that "beat" everything else on the block. Courtney's dad was the CEO of an enormous company, and so I guess it made sense. I had never met the guy though. He was mostly out on business trips.

I followed her into the house, and we walked through the large kitchen with its granite counter-tops and imposing stainless steel fridge, past the living room full of expensive leather sofas and mahogany tables, to the very back of the house. Courtney opened the door to a room I had never been in before. It was pretty much bare, but in the middle of the floor sat a very large, old looking grand piano. "I think this wins," she said. Most other people, even grown-ups, would have missed the slight strain behind her confident tone. But I had known Courtney since we were babies. I watched her sit down heavily on the wooden piano bench. I couldn't put off asking any longer. "Courtney, what's the matter? I said, using my most soothing tone. To my surprise and horror, instead of answering me she put her head down on the keyboard and started to sob. I immediately walked over and gave her a hug. She turned her tear-stained mocha face upwards to look at me and asked me a question that I doubt a 40 year-old could answer. "Trent, why does Daddy send me this stuff if he doesn't want to come HOME?" I couldn't answer her, so I just gave her another hug, and proceeded to utter the truest words of my three year existence. "I love you Courtney, and I promise I always will. No matter what."

Fast forward 15 years. Flip through pages in albums, past Courtney and me turning five together, us having a water-balloon fight against Duncan Smith and Heather Chin (we lost), us riding a merry-go-round, eating ice-cream at a ballgame, riding the bus on the first day of Kindergarten (she looks happy and I look freaked). Go past a ton of our school photos and the photo of Courtney at 15, where she ripped out Justin (her one month "hottie" boyfriend). Skip the pictures of us at the talent show, with her playing violin and piano, and me singing a song with my guitar. Look farther than the picture of Courtney with her white BMW and me with my used Corolla. Move through the year when I was with Gwen, through the many pictures of us at the lake or the coffee shop where she preformed her poetry. Skim the photos of us at prom, the photos of me with Gwen on my arm wearing a black and green dress with fishnets. Glimpse Courtney in her silk dove-grey dress. But then take a good look at her date. Does he look familiar? Yes, my best friend and secret crush is dating Duncan "prison bait" Smith. Mom didn't chronicle their relationship, she disapproves of it. Instead the album moves on to Graduation, with Courtney and me in our neat caps and gowns. She gives the valedictorian address, and I smile as I receive my music award. The album holds one more photo, the most painful one yet. Courtney and I stand on our street, the cars we got together filled to the brim with our separate lives. We are exchanging one last hug before I leave to tour with Cachorro Grande and she drives north to Dartmouth. But only she and I know the words I whispered in her ear. "I'm always there to help you," I said. I meant it at three and I meant it then. I think I will mean that promise forever.

It's been a month since I said goodbye to Courtney, and left for my one-year trip with the music group. We performed tonight at a bar in North Carolina. After the performance, as I usually did, I high-fived the leader singer, Marius, and went to go check my email. "What, you think she leaves you message now?" he asked me. I flipped open my cheap silver laptop. He continued "It's close to midnight." "I know," I told him. "But I have to check." He sighed and sat back on his bed in the trailer we lived in. "Trent…" he began, but was cut off by the electronic voice of the world-famous AOL guy. "You've got mail," my laptop cheerfully announced. Wordlessly, I checked to see who it was from. The message came from .com. I clicked it, hoping for some good news from my best friend. After all, she was studying to be a lawyer at one of the most prestigious colleges in the country. My face fell as I read:

Trent,

I don't know what I'm going to do. This place feels enormous, and I can't seem to find anything. The students aren't at all friendly. Competitive doesn't even BEGIN to describe it. When I got the only passing grade on a test, the word took about 3 hours to travel across campus, and now I fear being eaten alive. My roommate won't even talk to me. But you know what's even worse? Duncan showed up today. That wouldn't be so bad. But he brought your old girlfriend, that Goth creature, Gwen, with him. They are living in an apartment in town, and just seeing them together is cracking my heart. Trent, can you tell me why I am even still here? I have nothing and no one to stay for. Except for you, of course. And you are so far away.

Courtney.

I considered my options. She sounded seriously depressed, even worse than when her parents divorced. And then there was Courtney's creed, she would never accept help from anyone, nor would she consent to tell them about her problems. She could seem cold, even fierce, but once you got to know her, you would see that she presented this severe face to the world to keep it from hurting her again. One thing was obvious. She needed me. And emails or phone calls just wouldn't be enough. "Marius?" I said tentatively. He rolled over to face me. "What is it Trent?" he asked. "I need to take a little, ummm, break." I told him. "WHAT?" he exploded. "Now!" I took a deep breath, and stood a little straighter. "Yes now." He looked at me. "You're doing this for love, aren't you," he sighed. "No, well, not exactly," I lied. "She's just a friend," I said, trying to explain. Marius didn't buy it. "You love her, Trent, and you know it." He sat up and said "Go pack. But if you don't give me a really good song for this, I'm going to kick your butt." I smiled and opened my drawer. "Deal."


	2. Chapter 2

_I drove for miles and miles__  
__And wound up at your door__  
__I've had you so many times but somehow__  
__I want more_

When I finished putting my clothing and the few personal possessions I had taken with me (musicians travel light) into a bag, I went to say goodbye to the other members of the band. "You're going where?" asked Antonio. "New Hampshire," I replied wearily. He looked bemused. "Dude, where the hell is New Hampshire?" I didn't bother to respond; just walked over to the next friend I was leaving. "Bye Vito," I told our crazy hyper drummer. He reminded of Izzy from back home, in a way. Both of them could come off a little crazy at times. Well, thinking it over, more than just a little crazy. "Omgyou''stheonlyguitarist," he whooped.

"Um, yeah, see yah Vito," I replied, nervously backing away. I ended hitting Oliver, our gentle keyboard player. "Sorry about that," I said.

"No problem," he replied. He asked, "what did you promise Marius in order to go, you're the reason we're making so much these days?"

"A song" I sighed. "A really awesome love song." He laughed. "I see. Well, if you need help with the chords, talk to me." "Will do." I replied. Oliver was a musical genius, he took the lyrics Marius and I wrote and turned them into real songs.

Carlo's voice came from across the trailer. "You're leaving?" he asked, sounding forlorn. Carlo was my best friend in the group, he played guitar like Jimmy Hendrix and coached me when I had a hard part to learn. He was never jealous about having to share the spotlight either. "Yeah," I said. He put his guitar into its green and black case. "That sucks." He went over to the desk we shared and pulled out a piece of paper. "What's that for?" I questioned. He wrote something on it in his large, bold handwriting. Then he grabbed an envelope and slipped the paper and something else inside it, sealing the package shut afterwards. "Something to help you," he said, handing it to me. He stood up, and we hugged each other. "I'll help you carry your bags to the car," he offered. I was happy to accept. When they were all crammed into the back of my Corolla, I climbed into the front seat. I rolled down the window and said my last goodbye to Carlo, and to the trailer. The rest of the band had come out, and they waved goodbye to me as I pulled out of the lot and out into the warm Southern dark.

I drove through the small streets of Granite Falls (this is an actual place in North Carolina), until I reached the US-321. I turned onto the highway and just drove for a while, listening to the songs on my iPod playlist. Eventually, when I had exhausted both myself and my full tank of gas, I pulled off the highway in Scranton, Pennsylvania. I found myself a gas station and filled up. When I went into the Big Apple store to buy myself a coffee, the sales-girl remarked: "You look like you've come a long way." I smiled at her as I put my money on the counter. "Miles and miles."

"Yo, Trent!" A voice called. I turned around, just to make sure I wasn't imagining it, and my face lit up as I saw DJ come walking over carrying a bag of cat treats. "DJ!" I yelled, and proceed to give him a man-hug. "Who would have thought? What an amazing coincidence!" He laughed. "The odds are pretty long," he admitted. "What brings you up to this neck of the woods brother?" he asked. "I thought you were on tour with that Mexican group."

"Change in plans," I said. "What brings you out here yourself?" "Mamma lives in Lancaster, and I went to visit her," he answered, undistracted from his first question. "It's cause of Courtney, isn't it?" "Maybe…" I replied, relaxing around my buddy from the good-ol' high school days. "The problem is that I can't drive any further without getting arrested by the police for poor driving and I really don't have the money to spend on a motel." He considered this, and then smiled his trademark sweet, generous smile. "Then why don't you just come and stay with me?" he asked."

"Really?" I asked hopefully.

"Really," said DJ.

The first thing I saw when I woke up was a room with cheerful yellow walls. "Where am I?" I said aloud, to no one in particular. Then last night came flooding back, in a rush of memories. I turned and saw an alarm clock on the dressing table next to my bed. It was, to my horror, 12:46 AM. I jumped out of bed and tripped over a furry object. "MEWWWWW" the black cat went. After it abruptly ceased meowing, it walked out of the room with its back held high, dismissing me. I followed it into a small living room connected to a kitchen. DJ was awake at the table, eating a bowl of cereal. "You finally woke up," he exclaimed. His next words were addressed to the traitorous ball of black fluff. "Oh honey, you hungry?" he asked the cat. To me he said "This baby right here's Stella, cause she's my star." I tried to thank DJ and head out the door, but he insisted on my eating some cereal and yoghurt. I ate as quickly as I could, but the minutes still ticked by. DJ read something on his laptop; I assumed it was for his veterinary class at SUNY. Finally, I got to my feet and put my bowl in the sink. "Thanks for all you've done, DJ."

"Thank YOU for coming over, Trent," the big guy said. I started to open the door when DJ said one more thing.

"Trent, don't you ever give up." "I won't," I promised, and shut the door.

The ride to Dartmouth seemed to go quickly after that, and before I knew it I was in Lebanon NH. I drove around the green, trying to find the number that matched the address Courtney had given me before she left. Fifteen minutes later, the good news was that I had found the house. The bad news was that the door was locked. The worse news was that it had started to rain. Rain wasn't even the right word. The sky had opened up and dumped literally buckets of rain onto the small town. I sat in my car and waited for the storm to let up. While I was sitting, I thought of all the reasons why Courtney meant so much to me. I appreciated her independence, her fire. She wouldn't let anyone push her around, neither teachers nor peers. When we had to deliver oral reports in class, she was always the one who volunteered to go first. People would never pick on her to her face; they knew she'd simply give them a good kick in the shins. When Duncan beat me up and stole my squeaky dinosaur, she chased him down three blocks and sat on him until he gave it back. Courtney would try anything, and go anywhere. She was fearless, and being with her made me fearless as well. At this moment, a great rush came over me, and I knew that wherever I went and whatever I did, I knew I would never get enough of Courtney Lexington.

A white car pulled into the driveway.

**Thanks so much to those who continue to read and review this fan fiction, they make me want to update it! Also, a quick news flash: this story will not be updated quickly for a while, my grandparents are here and chapter three will probably take some time anyways. ~.review17**


	3. Chapter 3

_I don't mind spending everyday__  
__Out on your corner in the pouring rain__  
__Look for the girl with the broken smile__  
__Ask her if she wants to stay awhile__  
__And she will be loved__  
__She will be loved_

I just about jumped out of my seat in my rush to see her. But then I remembered that Courtney really, REALLY doesn't like surprises, and plus, she might think I was some crazy stalker (it's happened, my buddy Cody once had…well, that's another story). So I waited for her to open the door. It took a while; she didn't seem to want to go inside. Maybe she was listening to the radio, I mused. But no, that didn't seem to be it, because she had her head in her hands and I didn't hear any music. Something strange struck me then: she hadn't closed the windows of her car, and all her stuff was getting wet. Now let me tell you, Courtney LOVES that car. It was a present from her dad, so it means a lot to her. Something was obviously wrong. I couldn't wait any longer, so I opened the car door and walked across the driveway, splashing through the many puddles (my shoes were completely drenched). Courtney didn't even look up at the noise. I stood next to her car for a minute, then gingerly tapped on her door. True to form, she jumped, then grabbed the nearest heavy object and swung it at me. I had to step quickly to the side to avoid being hit with "Arguing about Law: an Introduction to Legal Philosophy."

"Thanks a lot for the welcome, Courtney," I said. She instantly dropped the book and looked up at me. Her lovely face broke into a smile. Courtney's smiles are some of the most beautiful things around. They aren't just vapidly sweet, like some dumb model's. Underneath the happy gesture is a kind of brokenness, a scar of the pain that comes from living. There are few things in the world I like better than making Courtney smile.

She spoke, her musical voice lighting up. "Trent, how on earth…?" She trailed off mid-sentence. "Did I get here?" I said, finishing the sentence for her. "Well, let's just say I took a little road trip." "Little?" she asked incredulously. "You got to New Hampshire from North Carolina!"

"Anything for you babe," I said. She still doesn't know how true that actually is. Courtney got out of her car and gave me a huge hug. Then she turned back to her car. "Oh NO!" she wailed. "I forgot to shut the windows!"

I grabbed a towel from my car, and we began to wipe water off the seats. Luckily for Courtney, her coat had fallen over most of her books, so they came through alright. I knew I probably didn't want to know the reason that super-organized Courtney had left her windows open during a thunderstorm, but I asked anyway.

"Courts, why did you not close the windows?" I questioned, not really expecting a response. To my surprise, she answered me. "I saw Duncan and Gwen making out on the Green together," she said, misery coating every word. "And then I decided that a downpour really didn't make a difference." "Well," I said, quickly deciding against further questioning, "shall we go inside?" "Oh yes, of course," she replied, looking guilty she hadn't thought of it earlier.

Courtney's apartment was beautiful. Its rooms had warm maple floors, and it even had a pretty decent bathroom. Some things I recognized from home, like the tacky glitter-pink violin magnet I had given Courtney for her birthday one year. But others, like the multitude of cheap make-up spread across the bathroom counter, had me quite puzzled. Courtney doesn't wear much make-up, but when she does, it's the really nice kind (I know this because she once gave me a makeover. Well, first she had to tie me to a chair….) When I asked her about it, she said that the make-up belonged to her roommate, who was studying cosmetology. The tone she used left no doubt as to what she thought of said roommate.

"So what should I make for dinner?" she asked. "Courtney, you just got soaked and now if memory serves you probably have a cold, there's no way you're making dinner!" I told her. "The last thing I need is a fever," I teased.

Finally, we agreed to that I would cook dinner, and she would make us hot chocolate.

"What is the master chef cooking?" I asked Courtney. Her eyes glinted with mischief as she thought. "Waffles!" she yelled, making me jump. "But it's 8 PM!" I protested. "Well, this has been a very messed up day," she responded.

I fixed up the waffle batter and turned on the waffle iron while Courtney heated the milk and chocolate in a pan. We settled into our tasks, having done this quite a few times before.

"Do you know what waffles are?" I asked her. "Wonderful crunchy pieces of awesomeness?" she guessed. "Close but no waffle," I said. "Tell me!" she begged. That's so Courtney, she won't rest until she knows the answer, I thought. "Waffles are pancakes with syrup traps," I told her. The waffle iron dinged. "Oh!" she cried, moving toward the iron. "The first one is done." "Not so fast!" I told her. "The master chef gets the first bite!" "NOOO!" she screamed.

We both ran across the room in a rush to eat the first waffle.

"Oh no you don't!" I said, grabbing her wrists. I pulled her toward me, listening to her laughing. She falls toward me, and I reach to catch her. Now she's in my arms, and I think of all the things I would have given to get to this moment. And I without thinking leaned forward to kiss her. She moved toward me, intoxicated.

Just then the door swung open to reveal a knock-out blonde. She was wearing a tight and extremely low cut red shirt. I blushed, and let go of Courtney. She briefly looked (I hoped) disappointed, but she quickly stepped in with the diplomatic role. In a strained tone, she introduced us.

"Trent, this is my roommate Lindsay." "Lindsay, this is my best friend Trent." Her roommate gave me the once over. "Are you sure you're just friends?" she asked. She had a little-girly voice. "Yes, we're just friends!" Courtney and I answered simultaneously. "Are you positive, cause that looked like…" she trailed off. "We've been friends forever," Courtney said firmly. "Oh good!" Lindsay smiled. "Then can I have him?" She made kissy faces at me. I could feel my checks turning bright red. Courtney replied with great dignity "he's a person, not a fish, Lindsay." "Fish are good kissers right?" the blonde asked. I could see why these roommates didn't get along.

At that moment, we were saved by the smoke detector going off. Once we had extracted the burned waffle from the iron and put in a new one we sat down at the kitchen table. Courtney seemed happy again, and that made me happy as well. As Courtney told Lindsay about a new farm stand that had opened, I looked through the rain-streaked window, and saw a flash of neon green out of the corner of my eye. Then the doorbell rang.

**A Note from a Very Sorry Author: Guys, I guess this affirms I am human after all. In case you were wondering if I died, nope, readwritereview17 is still very much alive. I know this story hasn't been updated in forever, but there are reasons for that. Turns out that after a break-up is a really bad time to try and write what's supposed to be a love story. As a consequence, this writing is not my best work, please excuse that. But fear not, lovely readers, I am back on track and you should definitely expect more She Will be Loved. Except if I sprain my ankle again (believe it or not, this happened on the same day as my break-up.) **

**Cheers,**

**Readwritereview17**


	4. Chapter 4

_Tap on my window knock on my door__  
__I want to make you feel beautiful__  
__I know I tend to get insecure__  
__It doesn't matter anymore_

We all jumped to our feet abruptly and stood, wondering who was going to get the door. In the end, Lindsay, who had somehow extricated her extremely long legs from under the table faster than either Courtney or I, opened the door. Time seemed to freeze. Luckily, Lindsay was ready to break the silence, albeit in a very tactless way.

"Hey look Cathy; it's your ex-boyfriend! Isn't he the one that broke up with you for that Greta girl?" Courtney's expression hardened, but obviously the blonde had missed this because she blithely continued. "Come upon, you've GOT to remember! You spent like, forever crying, and then you ate that entire carton of ice-cream, which was like, totally bad for your pores you know."

Lindsay opened the door wider and I got a good look at the abusive a-hole who had broken my best-friend's heart. He didn't appear to have suffered any ill effects. I had always hated Duncan, ever since he beat me up and stole my squeaky dinosaur. Not much about him changed since then, except that he progressed from stealing dinosaurs to stealing cars.

"So Princess, looked like you missed me," Duncan said nonchalantly. Courtney instantly turned red, and flew at him. "Get out! Get OUT!" she yelled, while trying to shove him out the door. He protested, using the most ridiculous cliché I had ever heard. "But Courtney baby, I love you." She was almost crying now. "Yeah right, just like how you loved me when you were cheating on me with Gwen!"

You tell him Courtney, I thought to myself. You show that selfish, no good, lazy boy that could never love you like I could. Oops. I immediately tried to purge the errant thought from my brain.

Duncan moved closer to Courtney, and looked her in the eye. "Princess, Gwen and I are history. We broke up today. I told her I'd never love her as much as I love you."

Don't believe him, don't believe him, he's lying, rang the chorus in my head. I held my breath.

"Really?" Courtney asked, smiling through her tears. "Yep," the bad boy said, as though this didn't really matter at all. "Then welcome back," she said, smiling her amazing smile. The smile that always made me feel like I'd just won a million bucks.

I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. How could she do this to me? I stood stock still in my position near the door, hoping somehow fate would reverse itself, and that I could just be laughing over waffles with Courtney and Lindsay. Speaking of Lindsay….

"Hey Donald! So you and Christi are getting back together?" Duncan shrugged his shoulders. "Were we ever apart?" Lindsay laughed, her head tilting backwards. "That's not what Todd here thought," she giggled.

Oh no. Duncan turned his aquamarine eyes that Courtney had always loved searching, and appraised me coldly.

"What's he doing here?" he growled. He started across the floor toward me, but Courtney blocked him. "He's just here for a visit." Duncan remained skeptical. "If that's all, then WHAT the hell was your dumb blonde of a roommate talking about?" Courtney cheeks got redder. "He came because I asked him to." She threw her arms open in emphasis. "He came here because you broke my heart!"

He paused for a moment, considering this. Then he smirked. He hasn't changed, I thought. The smirk was the same as it had been for years. The smirk that he gave me was the one he gave me when we were 3 and he stole my dinosaur, and when we were 5 and he threw a water balloon in my face. Not to mention the smirk that spread itself over his face when he beat me up after prom and left me lying on the pavement, bleeding.

"Alright, get him out of here," he said. I must have looked shocked, because he turned and spoke directly to me. "Get out man; I need some time with my girlfriend." "But…, I began, hoping to defend myself."

Come on! I told myself. You didn't drive up from North Carolina for THIS! I was all ready to argue when Courtney stepped forward.

"I need to talk to him. Alone." She was using her "lawyer voice", you couldn't argue with it. If you wanted to live.

We stepped on her porch, and I listened to the rain pour down from the heavens.

"Trent…" she began warningly. "Yes?" I answered. "I've been thinking, and…" she began, but I cut her off. "You haven't been thinking at all!" "How can you just let him back in your life like that?" I thumped my foot for emphasis. "One minute you were crying in your car, and the next you're inviting him in for dinner?" "Stop being an idiot!"

That probably wasn't such a good idea. Courtney looked scandalized. I wasn't ready to back down though. It felt so good to finally tell her all these things.

"I can make my own decisions," she hissed, obviously trying to hold in her temper." "Yeah, right!" I responded. "You TOTALLY went to Dartmouth of your own free will. What your dad told you had NOTHING to do with it."

I decided to throw in my last argument.

"You MESS up your life, and then you call me to come and help you fix it. Every single time!"

She grabbed me by my collar, and yelled into my face. "Really Trent?" "Cause I think that if you DIDN'T have me, then you wouldn't know what to do with yourself." She pushed backwards, and I hit my leg on the railing of her white porch. "You're horribly insecure!" she shrieked.

She looked devastated, even worse then when she had been crying before. I felt guilt wash over me. How could I have treated her this way? Was I any better than Duncan now? I changed my tone, attempting to make peace.

"Please Courtney, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I just want you to be loved and cherished by whoever you date. I want you to feel beautiful."

I was too late, and I could tell. Courtney's eyes flashed daggers at me.

"Trent, I don't care if you WERE my best friend since forever. You CANNOT say something like that and just apologize." She turned inside, grabbed my suitcase from where I had left it on her floor, and tossed it at me. For a minute, I thought she looked conflicted, and I stretched out my hand, pleading with her silently. Shaking, she closed the door on me, with these final terrible words.

"It doesn't matter anymore."

**Author's Note: Hi guys. Hope this chappie satisfies, I've been meaning to write it for a while, but I burned out after writing multiple essays on the Treaty of Versailles. The writing may have some flaws, I'll probably edit them out later. Anyways, I've been having trouble focusing enough to write these, so I was thinking...what motivates me? And the answer, of course, is your reviews. So here it is: DO YOU WANT TO INFLUENCE THIS STORY? Leave your idea in a review, and I'll pick the best one and incorporate it into Chapter 5. Please Read and Review**

**Love,**

**.review17**


	5. Chapter 5 Part 1

**Hello wonderful readers, writers, and (hopefully) reviewers! It's great to be back! There's quite a bit of news for me to share with you, so I'll get started. First, regarding this new chapter: because of the excessive writing I've been doing, I cut this verse into two parts, and thus 2 half chapters. Not only does this build suspense and tension, but it also insures my hands don't fall off! Win/Win! Next, a personal plea from your author. Since you all are (obviously) wonderful creative people, you might be interested in finding other web outlets that let you publish your work. Figment is one of these sites. I've just entered a short story contest of theirs, and I confess, I need votes. For any of you that are interested, please create a Figment account and give this story a try. It's only 385 words, just a 2 minute read! If you enjoy it, please give it a 3. Here's the link: /books/8398-Atrium (click open link in new tab, sorry, I don't know why it doesn't work any other way). On the off chance that any of you are Figment writers, by all means send me a link to your story in a review and I'll give it read and a 3. Whew, that was a long! Anyways, last item of business: I give reviewer power of slide a giant virtual cookie and hug for her great suggestions. That's all folks :) And now...our feature presentation. **

_It's not always rainbows and butterflies_

_It's compromise that moves us along_

I stood there for what felt like forever, holding my beat-up suitcase in my hands. The entire world had just turned over on itself, and nothing was the same anymore. I walked in a daze to my car, getting totally soaked in the process. Staggering, I fell into the driver's seat and drove away from her house as fast as I could, which turned out to be around 15 over the limit. Eventually, I found a hotel and parked next to the curb in front. Getting out, I stumbled and narrowly avoided dumping my (meager) bag of clothes into a puddle. Trotting through the parking lot, I felt torn up inside. I opened the door and walked into the small, well light lobby to the desk. The concierge was on the phone, she gave me the "1 minute" sign with her finger. She had dark brown hair tied into two pigtails and coppery skin. From what I could tell, she looked to be in about her mid-30's. Her name-tag said Katie in bold letters. I collapsed into one of those pointless chairs that they have in hotel lobbies and waited, dripping.

"No honey, I won't be home until 11:30 tonight," I heard Katie mutter into the phone. She paused, listening to the response. "Well it isn't my fault they put me on night duty." This was said defensively, I wondered if whoever she was talking to had accused her of something.

"Sadie, I'm NOT DOING IT ON PURPOSE!" she yelled into the phone. "I'm providing for us, working so that we can keep a roof above our heads and still eat!" I wondered if I should leave, obviously this was an argument, and I'd had my fill of argument for the night. Maybe even forever.

"You and your hoity-toity art school! What, you think you're going to be the next Picasso or something? Some of us actually work, maybe you should consider it!" She held the phone away from her head, and "Sadie" was screeching loud enough so I could hear her too. "You always told me that you loved me and that it would work out, but you were just waiting to kick me out, weren't you? Well, don't come back home tonight. Sleep on the couch of your precious inn or something!" This speech was followed by a loud click; I guessed Sadie had hung up the phone.

Katie put her head down on the desk, clearly overwhelmed. I shifted my feet slightly, trying to wake them back up. She glanced over at me, and sat up, trying to look professional.

"You want a room." It wasn't a question. "Yes," I responded. "Can you pay for it?" she asked, taking in my soaked shirt and ripped jeans. "I can," I said, getting out my wallet and praying that my money wasn't as damp as the rest of me. I put the money on the counter and tried to resist the urge to speak.

"You should say you're sorry." The words tumbled out, against my will. Aghast, I got ready to be slapped or scolded. Katie just looked at me. "And what do you know about it?" she asked sharply.

"You're just a teenage vagrant, most likely." Guilt swamped me, but I told her: "I don't know much, but it's just that I made the same mistake. I lost my best friend." Understanding flashed over her face, and she warmed up. "Maybe you're right," she said, lifting the phone again. "You'll be in room 27, on the first floor." She passed me the key card and my receipt. I turned to leave, but she spoke. "What's your name, boy?" she asked. "Trent," I replied. "Well Trent, if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." As I stepped into the elevator, I heard her say: "I'm so sorry, let's work things out." Compromise is beautiful.


End file.
